Tending the Dead
by bruce2112
Summary: Sadly, incredibly, the Wolverine is dead - we saw it happen. But sometimes you can't kill a good man, and sometimes a story is too good to end...
1. Chapter 1: Tending the Dead

**Chapter 1: Tending the Dead**

 _(Note: The second half of the old 1,344-word draft of Chapter 3 has been split off as Chapter 4. I apologize for any confusion...)_

Thank God we hadn't arrived a minute sooner because we would've met the armed convoy at the turn-off. As it was, it was far too close a call, and my hands trembled on the wheel as we drove by.

I wasn't happy, of course, but things could have been much worse. At my age I'm not particularly afraid of death, but with Billy with me I had to think of him, and getting caught in the middle of a nasty scrap would have been the last thing anybody needed. In any case, he would know the outcome as soon as the dust settled, and then we'd be able to sort things out.

Once I'd found a safe place to hide the SUV, I prepped a needle for Billy just in case – my son is nearly forty, but he's got the mind of a child, and he can be a handful if he gets too agitated.

As I had feared it would, the gunfire started a few minutes later, the sound of rapid-fire shooting echoing through the hills to our north. It was all I could do to keep Billy composed, but I was able to calm him without requiring the sedative. After a few minutes the blessed silence returned and I decided to take a chance.

"Can you pick her up still?" I asked, and he closed his eyes to focus on the child that I hoped was still alive.

Then somewhere in the distance a single gunshot boomed, and maybe half a minute afterwards Billy began to cry. "Daddy!" he wailed, and I quickly took his hand.

"I'm here, son." I whispered.

But he merely shook his head and sobbed.

"Is it her?" I asked. "Are you picking Laura up? Can you sense her at all?"

Through his tears, Billy nodded.

"Thank God," I breathed, and the tears came to my own eyes. But as relieved as I was to know that the nice little girl had survived, it also pained me that most likely the torn battered soul I had treated in my clinic two days before had not, and my heart ached for the passing of a good man.

And there are so few of our kind left…

I placed a soothing hand on Billy's shoulder. "C'mon, Bill," I said gently. "We've got work to do."

Slowly and cautiously I drove up the hillside trail, praying all the way that the fighting was truly and completely done. We began passing the dead halfway up and even though I've been a physician for many years, it was still a ghastly sight.

But no children that I could see – thank God – none of the children!

At the top of a rise I found the rest of the gunmen, all dead except for one or two that soon would be … for when Adamantium meets flesh and bone the metal always wins, and in the short time left to him the Wolverine had been busy.

The gravesite wasn't hard to find – a shallow affair heaped with water-rounded stones. The kids, however many of them there were, must have been in a hurry. There was something else: a head-shot corpse that appeared to be a younger version of the Wolverine, hatred and rage still frozen upon its face. It seemed that we'd be retrieving two bodies, one to save and the other to deal with as best I could.

As quickly as possible we emptied the grave, carefully placing Logan's mortal remains in the back of the truck and, as much as I hated to bring it, the canvas-wrapped carcass of the triple-clawed horror that must have killed him.

At the bottom of the hill, I pulled over to give Billy the wheel – he might not be able to read or write and he doesn't talk much, but he knows how to drive and I had better things to do just then than merely keeping our vehicle on the road.

Most non-medical folks don't know this, but death is a process. It takes days for the spark of life to completely leave a body and as long as any of that remains, with the right kind of talent, persistence, and luck, even a faint glimmer can be fanned back into full flame.

In Logan's case, my first task would be to preserve as much of that spark as possible, to check the ebbing-away of his life force so that the long difficult process of healing and bringing him back could begin.

Every mutant has his gift, and that is mine…


	2. Chapter 2: How to Resurrect A Wolverine

**Chapter 2: How to Resurrect a Wolverine**

Even before Billy had us rolling again, I got to work.

It had been the first real chance I'd had to look at Logan, and once I'd cut away his blood-stained clothing I could see the true extent of his injuries.

The worst of it was the wound on the right side of his chest – a huge one passing completely through him. Ordinarily, Logan would be able to survive not only such an appalling wound, but to heal it in minutes – hours at most, but in his immediately premortem state he wouldn't have been able to recover, not without massive intervention.

Even then, I had no idea whether or not it would be possible to bring him back, but I was going to give it my best try. The remainder of his wounds, though fatal to normal mortals, weren't something I couldn't deal with, not as long as the patient's brain could be fixed and rebooted. Given the lack of serious head injuries there was still hope, as any brain damage I found would have been caused by the processes that had occurred after death itself.

After more than an hour without oxygen an ordinary human brain would not only be stone dead but utterly unrepairable, and to give him any chance at all I would have to go in.

Breathing a quick prayer, I laid my hands upon his head and closed my eyes to allow my consciousness to enter it. In my mind's eye I could see the remaining structures of the man's brain, hypoxia damaged certainly, but still repairable at the sub-cellular level.

Quickly, I restored the physical damage, hoping that I'd been in time to preserve the even more complicated electrical patterns that were the essence of Logan's mind. Some of them were purely automatic functions that I could restore, but without his now-lost memories and conscious functions, my patient would never again be anything more than just a living corpse.

An hour-plus was more than twice the furthest I'd ever tried before to reach back in time, but if I could copy the electrical state of his brain, all trillion trillion bits of it as it existed at a moment or two before death into the brain tissue I had just repaired, I might be able to resurrect the mind as well as the body in which it had existed. That depended upon how accurate the time-shifted copy would be and where the inevitable pattern losses occurred, and it would be days before I'd know how much of him we'd gotten back.

As thoroughly as I could, I restored all the low level patterns, and then blanking all but a single part of my mind I reached back timeward to drag a twin of each and every electrical impulse in his brain ahead to the same physical cell and location as it now existed an hour ahead.

A bright yellow flash surged through my own brain, and it was done - sometimes a little quantum entanglement can be a good thing!

The rest of it was routine stuff: repair everything needed for the next couple of hours and then kick-start the heart to get the oxygen circulating. A second mental flash soon took place and, like it had been shocked, Logan's body jolted and, after a brief seizure, it came back to life – heart function and respiration shaky, but working.

And that, for the time being, was that. Don't ask me how the whole resurrection process works: I don't have a clue because that's just something my gift does, and I couldn't explain it if I tried.

I dropped into a deep post-resurrection sleep and, after an hour or so, I had recovered enough to repair the rest of his body functions and the remainder of his wounds, placing neural blocks where they were needed deep in his now-functional brain to keep Logan deep in his coma and stable until we got home.

As distasteful as it was, my other 'patient' also needed tending, so I had Billy stop so we could move the X-24's remains into a body bag, trussing it as tight and securely as we could before we did.

That done, Billy pulled back onto the road, and I resumed my nap…


	3. Chapter 3: That Nice Little Girl

**Chapter 3: That Nice Little Girl**

 _(note: The second half of this chapter has been removed and posted as Chapter 4; I apologize for any confusion...)_

Billy woke me at the gas station he had pulled into. I filled up, grabbed a quick bite with him, and then it was my turn to drive. I didn't mind: I'd gotten enough sleep for the time being, and I wanted do some thinking, anyway.

I wondered how Laura was doing and thought back to when I'd met them Wednesday morning.

My friend Buddy had called to tell me about somebody collapsed on the road about ten miles away, and I grabbed Billy and headed out there.

Sure enough, there was a man lying alongside his truck, with a young girl kneeling beside him handing his hand. When Billy saw them he got agitated, which was something he rarely does anymore, and I had to scold him a couple of times before he calmed down.

When I got close enough to see the man's face, I was stunned to see that it was somebody I recognized. It was Logan – commonly known as the Wolverine – and I knew then why the sight of him and the girl had upset my son. Billy has a quirk whereby he can sense folks who belong to a certain family, and there are few of those, mutant or not.

When I checked my patient he was in bad shape, not so much due to his injuries (though they were serious), but because of his general condition. He was haggard and looked utterly exhausted, and the injuries he had suffered the night before ought to have healed by that time. I asked the girl what her name was and what had happened, but she merely looked at me and said nothing at all. Other than that, she seemed normal except for the bloodstains around her knuckles.

We didn't waste any more time: after making sure Logan was safe to move, I had the boys help me move him into the back of my truck.

At the clinic, I got an IV into his arm and gave him a sedative, for all the good it would do. I doubted that he'd stick around once he recovered a bit, but figured he could use all the rest he could get.

Then I took Billy aside for a quick chat, and I asked him what he knew. I found out the girl's name – Laura – and why they'd been out by Buddy's fishing hole early that morning. I should have given Billy royal hell for scanning her without permission, but to be honest it was something I'd wanted to know myself.

So they were on the run and, knowing why, I was well-motivated to help them get away.

I told Laura she could have a short visit with her father as long as she didn't disturb him, and then I stepped outside with Buddy to ask him a favour. He wasn't too crazy about it at first, but I can be persuasive when I need to be, and I assured him that one way or the other I'd see to it that he'd get his truck back.

When we went back inside, Laura reluctantly left her father's side to rejoin us in the waiting room.

I turned towards Buddy. "It's a shame to spoil your fishing, so the least I can do is to cover your breakfast."

"Sure, Doc," he shrugged.

"You could probably use a bite yourself," I told the girl. "Would you like to go have breakfast with these fine young gents, or stay here?"

Her eyes flicked toward Logan's room.

"I understand," I smiled.

"Would you fetch a couple of breakfasts for us, too?" I asked Billy as I handed him a couple of bills on their way out. Then the door slammed and we were alone, staring at each other across a small table, and since she wasn't going to start the conversation, I did.

"I've never met your daddy, but I know him pretty well."

The girl gave me a cool appraising look, putting me on notice that whatever I might be up to wasn't going to fool her.

I smiled.

"Not many folks know this," I said, "but my Mama's maiden name was Howlett."


	4. Chapter 4: A Beautiful Thing

**Chapter 4: A Beautiful Thing**

 _(Note: This chapter is the second half of the previous 1,300 word+ draft of Chapter 3)_

Her expression didn't change, but she leaned towards me ever so slightly, and I knew that I'd gotten her attention.

"And that would make us kin. Cousins a few steps removed, maybe, but still common blood."

I paused. "Which means we are, too."

The guarded look on the girl's face eased, and I could feel the tension drop a bit.

"My boy's been worried about you," I said, and her brow crinkled.

"Don't worry," I said. "Bill's good at reading people. He'll never have a grownup mind but he's got a big heart, especially towards relatives, and he can tell that you've just been through a lot … haven't you, Laura?"

Her eyes widened when she heard her own name.

"I know we haven't been properly introduced, darlin', but my Billy is _very_ good at reading people."

I paused again.

"Now maybe it's just an old country doctor's intuition, but something tells me that you haven't always been silent."

She said nothing, but her eyes told me what I needed to know.

"Like you and your daddy I have a gift, though it's not one that tends to make the news. Oddly enough for a simple physician, it's the gift of healing – mental and spiritual, as well as physical."

I grinned. "How about that?"

Ever so briefly, a silent smile flickered across Laura's face.

"I can help you with that, if you like."

Carefully, I placed my hands palm down upon the desk, and then, ever so slowly and carefully, slid them across the wooden desktop towards her. Then I closed my eyes and waited.

For a few awkward moments I thought that she was going to refuse my offer and stay behind her wall, but then I felt first one small cool hand and then the other one place themselves on top of mine.

Cautiously and delicately, I closed the gap between our minds and then opened a hair-thin breach, bracing for what I knew was on the other side. Let me tell you, it's far easier to raise the dead than it is to feel the weight of terrors and hopelessness and guilt that no child should ever have to carry…

Gently, I held back the fury trapped within, knowing that even if there was enough time to absorb it all, there was no way I could do it without burning out or at least crippling myself for a long time. But I could help with the worst of it, and I did – healing and soothing where her mind and psyche needed it the most, placing memory blocks strategically here and there, leaving behind residual feelings of hope and safety, and love.

Then I gently closed the bridge between us, and there was silence in the room for at least a minute.

I opened my eyes to see Laura staring back at me with a mix of surprise and relief on her young face.

"Don't try to talk right away," I said. "You'll know when the time's right."

She smiled – a real smile this time – the first I'd ever seen from her, and it was a beautiful thing.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the boys returned from breakfast. Billy stopped and looked at her, and then chuckled; Buddy gave her a quick strange look, and then opened the newspaper he'd brought back with him.

And, in less than a minute flat Laura demolished that breakfast they'd brought back.

I wasn't surprised to hear Logan stir maybe an hour later. I'd hoped that he'd stay down for a while longer, but it was better than nothing. Then he left, taking Laura and a part of me with them.

Twenty minutes later, Buddy remembered something.

"What about the truck?" he asked. "They'll need the keys!"

"They're already driving it," I grinned. "That girl's a pretty resourceful little thing."

"What!?" He grabbed for his keys and felt nothing but an empty pocket.

"Don't worry, Buddy," I said. "Let's get you over to my place to pick you up some temporary wheels till we can get their truck fixed and then we can go up and swap it back for yours."

I paused. "Deal?"

Buddy nodded, though I don't think he was too happy…


	5. Chapter 5: Diagnosis

**Chapter 5: Diagnosis**

Night driving is hard driving for me and I stopped two or three times to check on Logan, grabbing a short catnap each time I did.

It was almost light by the time we got home, and by the time I'd settled my patient into one of my bedrooms and squared away the other one, we were well into the new day. I'd get the rest of my sleep that night, but for the moment three or four hours would have to do…

I didn't even get that much – well before the alarm went off I was awakened by the sound of Billy sobbing.

My heart sank, as it could only mean that there was something wrong – or worse – with Laura.

"What is it, son?" I asked him, putting my arm around him and soothing him enough to clear his mind. "Can you feel anything from her?" And I sighed with relief when he nodded. "What's she feeling, Bill?"

"Laura hurts! Oh, she hurts!" Billy groaned, and he began to cry again.

Quickly, I fetched a needle and, just before I pushed in the plunger, I made emotional contact with him and was nearly floored by what I felt.

What Laura was experiencing wasn't physical, but I almost wished it had been, for I can't remember another time I ever had to experience the sheer hopelessness and loss that poor little soul was going through. In fact, not only did I give Billy a second needle, I gave myself a quarter-dose, too.

Since I wasn't going to be getting any more rest for awhile, I rummaged through my desk for a long-kept but still-sealed foil packet and I tore it open. Pulling out a blue card, I wetted a finger with my tongue and smeared it across the front to allow my DNA to reveal a phone number, which I then dialed.

After a few rings, an operator picked up, and I gave him a name before giving him mine. A full minute later, my party came on the line. "Well, Doc, long time no hear, how's Billy?"

"Fine," I said, "but it's Laura I'm worried about."

"Who?" he asked, though of course he already knew.

"A recent patient of mine," I replied. "She and her father came through my clinic about four days ago, and he was in rough shape. The young lady was physically okay, but mentally…"

He sighed. "Yeah, she's here. Diagnosis, doctor?"

"Well, based on what I picked up from Billy before I knocked him out, I'd say the girl's suffered at least an emotional collapse, if not a full breakdown on her part. Possible psychosis ... post-traumatic stress, certainly."

I filled him in regarding the time I'd spent with Laura, and then continued. "Unless you've got special talent up there, I'd say you've probably got your hands full."

"Full enough," he grumbled. "Thank God, we've got young Rictor, but there's only so much a kid can do, and he won't be able to do it forever."

"What's your plan?" I asked. There was silence for a few seconds, and then he answered.

"Quite frankly, Doc, before your call we'd run out of plans."

"Let me know how I can help," I said. "I didn't see her for very long, but I managed to get pretty fond of her, all the same."

"Okay, Doc, give me a few minutes." Then he disappeared, leaving the line open until he returned ten minutes later.

"How soon can you come here?" he asked. "Our folks are fresh out of ideas, and since you've treated her once already and she knows you, maybe there's something you can do."

"It's at least a twelve or thirteen hour drive," I replied. "Depending on where you are, not to mention I haven't recovered from the last trip yet – we only just got home a few hours ago."

"Forget the driving, Doc," he growled. "We can have a Lear Jet in the air within the hour to fetch you and your son."

"Sure," I said. "By all means send the bird, but we've got a few wrinkles to sort out first..."


End file.
